


The Very Ground You Stand On

by ToriCeratops



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: BUT NONE ACTUALLY HAPPENS, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Established Relationship, Foster Care, M/M, Minor Character Death, References to human sacrifice, Temporary guardianship, and no children were harmed in the writing of this fic, kind of?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 15:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19065499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops
Summary: After a few years of marriage, of the ups and downs of navigating something so new to both of them, of years of change, of turning Alicante on its head so that the shadow world is nearly unrecognizable, there is still so much to do.  There are laws to fix and hearts to change, and they are just getting started.But when Magnus is accused of murder with the evidence piling against him, everything they've worked for - everything they have bled and cried and sacrificed for - could crumble to dust.





	The Very Ground You Stand On

**Author's Note:**

> This follows show canon/characterizations entirely with a few differences. Most of them are minor enough but with two big ones.  
> 1.) After my first draft of the first couple chapters it came to my attention that the Show Writers _murdered_ Jia Penhallow's character (I've never read the books) and I had to do a revision that made her _not_ Consul because I felt so bad about it. So Malachi is still alive. That gets fixed later though, don't worry.  
> 2.) Clary deserved better. So that rune wipe shit never happened.  
> There. That was easy.

_"There is a terrible danger in loving small, fragile things."_

 

 

“What about Lalo?”

Magnus peers down a dark alleyway, tendrils of blue weaving in and out of his fingers at the ready for an attack.  Behind him he can feel Alec’s closeness, knows he is protecting his blind spots.

Judging him.

“Lalo?”  His husband asks, more amused than anything else.  “What about…” He hums as they continue their search to the next black corner of the never-ending city.  “Terran?”

“You know that is what they call Earthlings in sci-fi movies, right?”  He spares a quick glance over his shoulder to catch the look of confusion he knows he’ll see.  Sure enough, there it is like he’s trying to figure out a difficult math equation or something, one eyebrow so high it is trying to disappear into his fabulously messy hair.  “Save me from overprotected Nephilim,” Magnus says with a quiet laugh. He wants to kiss the silly look off his face. But they’re working, so he rolls his eyes and flicks his wrist in dismissal before refocusing on the task at hand.

“Well then, what about Michael? Simple. Easy.” As if anything in their lives is either.

When a portal opens to their left and a familiar warlock steps out with two werewolves Alec gestures back and to the right.  There’s another path they hadn’t taken that needs to be checked and the three bolt, gone a moment later.

Just as the portal begins to snap shut the hair on the back of Magnus’ neck stands on end and the faintest hint of a chill runs down his spine and out over his skin.  His sudden stop has Alec’s bow instantly drawn and they both hold their breath, listening.

Just as quickly as the sensation puts him on high alert, it’s gone again.  Still, he scans every inch of their surroundings until they are both absolutely certain they aren’t about to be attacked.  

Something, fear perhaps, a kind that he had hoped to never feel again, wedges itself in the depths of Magnus’ brain.  The feeling is absolutely evil, and painfully familiar, but not their current task - and gone anyway.

“Sabriel.”  He offers to signal the all clear then begins moving forward again, though their steps are more cautious, volume lower.  

“Ugh, no angel names.”

Magnus has to stop and stare in shock at him for that, too distracted by the complete ridiculousness of that statement to focus on anything else momentarily.  He stares with his mouth agape for a second then shakes away his disbelief. “You just said Michael.”

For a heartbeat, Alec looks confused then sheepish.  “I,” He shakes his head as well then laughs. “Yeah but it’s also kind of normal?”

“Alexander, darling, you wouldn’t know normal if it slapped you in - “

Alec’s smile vanishes in a flash and he holds a single finger to Magnus’ lips.  A crash of wood and metal comes from behind him. He whips around. With his pulse racing in anticipation of a fight they both bolt of towards the noise.

It is a dark and cold night, an icy chill hanging in the air and kept at bay by layers and magic.  They aren’t the only ones out searching the streets. Shadowhunters and downworlders alike from all over the world have descended on the city, eager and ready to banish the greater demon Moloch.

The entire shadow world had been shaken to its core two months prior when their children began to go missing.  Over a dozen young ones taken from their homes and places once thought safe. Every species except the vampires had been affected, though they fight as well.  Fear and uncertainty filled their world for six weeks with more and more voices joining a chorus of anguish until a pack of werewolves had finally found the demon’s lair - every child still whole and well and terrified inside it.

But they hadn’t found the monster.

With all but one child (who currently sleeps soundly in the safety of the Institute) reunited with their families, the whole of the shadow world hunts.

No more children will be lost.  

The second he turns the corner Magnus releases the magic at his fingertips into a swarm of more than a dozen creatures.  Energy pours through him, igniting the air and streaking through the night to keep the demons at bay. His heart sinks when more pour from the shadows, out of the radius of his initial spell.  But before he can adjust a volley of arrow after arrow whizzes past him, each one hitting their mark with a thud and satisfying fizzle of being turned into ash that scatters in the icy wind.

Together, they advance, step by purposeful step while Magnus uses everything he has to keep the creatures at bay and prevent them from getting out of the side street and behind them.  Though every arrow Alec fires into the mass of flesh and oil finds its mark their numbers never seem to truly dwindle, more and more appearing from who the hell knows where.

With his heart pounding in his chest and the unholy screams of Moloch’s minions in his head, Magnus has to take a deep breath to partition off a bit of his focus so he can maintain the barrier of fire while sending up a signal high into the air over the city.  

“The bastard has to be nearby!”  Alec echos Magnus’ thoughts. With this many, and how they refuse to disperse or retreat, they are protecting the path forward.

A flash of black catches his attention to the right.

Though Alec is quick to take down the one that seemed to have enough intelligence to go OVER the surrounding buildings, the distraction is enough.  The spell slips and cracks, and several demons are suddenly bearing down on them. Fear grips at Magnus. He moves to the left, spinning out of the way of one just to come face to face with another, its oily appendages going right for his throat.  Magic surges through his body, whipping out and around the creature at the last second to throw it off and into some of its cohorts. Hopefully, it will slow them down enough he can get back on his feet.

Alec has his bow still gripped in one hand, Seraph blade in the other slicing through demons.  But he’s facing too many. His body moves like it always does, bending and arcing out of the way of attack after attack before powering through with his own.  Magnus admires the beauty in his actions even as he pushes out with his magic to burn those coming on Alec’s left.

Just as he finally jumps back to his feet a howl sounds not far in the distance.

In a flash, the street is full of a dozen others, a backup team of other downworlders and shadowhunters cutting through the demon swarm.

For half a second, Magnus lets himself breathe.

It’s half a second too long.

“Magnus!”  Alec shouts over the din of fighting.  

Magnus looks up at him just in time to see an arrow fly over his shoulder.  Ash and ichor rains down on him and he frowns for only a moment before the relieved look on his husband’s face tells him just how close that had been.

“Glad you’ve got my back.”  He says when Alec closes the distance between them.

“I’ve _always_ got your back.”  The sincerity and promise in his eyes has a calming effect on Magnus and it becomes a little easier to breathe.  “Now come on,” he grabs Magnus by the arm and guides him forward. “We have a greater demon to kill.”

With no time to catch their breath they bolt forward, side by side, coming to an intersection just as a different signal lights up the night sky.

The beast has been found.

Three blocks away.

Their feet move faster than ever before, heavy on the pavement below them.  

Two blocks.

Sounds of fighting shifts from the mess they had left behind to a single roar of terror and pure hatred.  Shouts from those working to take down the demon fill their ears but are still too far away to make out clearly.  

A portal opens to their right, but they don’t slow down to see who comes out of it.

One block.

More portals swirl into existence.  More feet join theirs on the path. Words from the battle ahead become clearer, voices recognizable.  

Their signal leads them left and everyone nearly skids to a halt, their hearts pounding in their chests and heads as they find themselves in a small park, swarming with demons, shadowhunters and downworlders alike, Underhill leading the charge.  

At the center of it all is the beast who had threatened to tear their world apart one child at a time.

Moloch is at least the height of a two-story building, towering over the fight as a mass of flesh and oil.  Dozens of his minions swarm the ground around him. But here, where this all ends, they are finally outnumbered.  

Already out of breath from the fight and the run, Magnus nearly loses the rest of it from the terror that grips at his heart.  

But his resolve is stronger than his fear.

He glances to his right when another portal opens and nods at Clary as she steps out, followed closely by Jace, Simon, and Lorenzo.  

“You ready, Biscuit?”  

Her hardened look of determination and fiery anger never strays from the monster in front of them.  “Let’s kill this son of a bitch.”

They’ve been working on this plan since the beginning, countless hours and sleepless nights spent theorizing and testing.  It’s going to work. It has to. All around them the fight goes on in a cacophony of shouts and steel hitting flesh, magic zapping through the air, and teeth ripping through demons one after another.  He spots Catarina, Dot, and Tessa fanning out into position, then nods to Lorenzo who calls out the ready.

Each of them has at least two fighters protecting them, keeping the demons from coming too close.  With their guardians to keep them safe and Clary at his side at the ready, Magnus joins the other four warlocks in pooling their power to bind and weaken the creature.  It’s a rush of magic, the high of using his own magnified by the feedback from the others until he’s light headed but holding steady.

With the pure, raw power shared between the five warlocks, they could banish him.  It would take everything they had, even combined, but they could do it. But banishment isn’t the goal.  As Clary draws her runes with a new Stele, inlaid with the gold fragments of Glorious, destruction is where this is supposed to end.  

The light of her power is brilliant, white and gold light etched in heavenly fire.  But the added weight of her magic is like a tidal wave against their barrier, crashing and fighting to break free.  He is old and powerful, and those he blends his magic with are no novice weaklings. But the fight has been hard and the night long and the barrier of blue light swirling around the demon as it cries out in agony begins to falter.

Jace tears through a demon to his left and an arrow fells one right in front of Magnus.

“It’s not working!”  Underhill shouts from where he is protecting Lorenzo at the side of a vampire Magnus doesn’t recognize.  

Rising above them all the greater demon twists and contorts, raging into the night sky so loud it’s nearly deafening.   Sparks begin to heat the air around them, errant magic from the barrier slipping.

Clary falls to her knees.  “No! Keep going! I can do this!”

But the warlocks can’t.

They’re out of time and running out of magic fast.  

Alec pulls the last arrow from his quiver, the one with blue and red fletching saved specifically for this contingency plan, and looks to Magnus.

This was supposed to end with a lifeless corpse of a greater demon.  But banishment is better than defeat every day of the week.

Magnus nods his head.

Just as one of the demon’s appendages manages to burst through the barrier, Alec’s arrow flies through the air, steady and sure, making its mark right between the tiny, beady eyes.  

Clary’s shouts of protest are drowned out by everything else, by the fire and cracks of thunder that surround him as veins of brilliant light erupt through the demon’s visage.  She closes her hand and the park is washed in darkness. “No.” Her voice is cracked and broken. “No. We were so close. It was going to work we could have stopped him from ever…”

Exhaustion tugs at Magnus as the magic dissipates and his legs give out, falling to the ground right next to her.  “It’s okay.” He tries assures her, while both Alec and Jace rush to their sides. Out in the dark, most of their party chases down the few remaining demons.  Magnus needs to tell her, get through to her. Their plan may not have worked, but this is still a victory. It will take more than a century for Moloch to regain enough power to even consider coming through again, if not considerably longer to actually be able to.  

And maybe, if he says it enough to her, he’ll convince himself of that too.

 

* * *

 

An hour later a mass of people slowly pours into the Institute.  

The severely wounded are taken to be cared for.  Others patch themselves up in the halls and wherever they can find a spot to rest.  Some of the parents of the formerly stolen children who had gone out to fight, to ensure that no one else would have to go through that anguish and uncertainty they had, make their way to the third floor where their precious little ones had been closely and fiercely guarded all night.  Many of the families had returned home to heal as soon as they were saved, but others found their healing in the fight.

Alec presses the number three once they are inside the elevator.

For the first time in at least twelve hours, they are alone.

They are still.

Magnus suddenly finds himself with his arms full of his husband, a strong, desperate grip around his tired and sore shoulders that is more comforting and healing than all the magic in the universe.  He nearly collapses into it, clinging to him as Alec’s breath stutters and his whole body trembles.

“We did it.”  He sighs and buries his face into the curve of Alec’s neck.

“They’re safe.  He’s safe. They’re all…”  Alec draws a shaky breath, pulling back enough to bring his hands up and bracket Magnus’ face, then rests their foreheads together and simply breathes.

In the quiet stillness of the elevator, relief finally finds its way into their veins and through their embrace, to their hearts.  All of the children are safe.

It’s over.

Suddenly, Magnus notices all of his aches and pains, the scratch on his arm, the bump on his head, the way he feels ten times heavier even with Alec’s mere presence giving him the strength to keep standing.  He is very, very tired.

Alec moves just enough their noses brush.  “Maybe we should have cleaned up first.”

With what little magic he still has lingering in his chest, Magnus snaps and all the dirt, blood, and ichor of the evening disappears from both of them.  He is still in desperate need for a long, scalding hot shower. But for now, this will do.

The soft ding of the elevator pulls them from their private reprieve and by the time the doors open both men move as quickly as their overworked, bruised and battered bodies will allow.

Magnus gets there first.

“There is the little Peanut!”  Even his exhaustion cannot hold back the broad smile, or keep him from swooping into the impromptu nursery with his arms open wide so he can take a giggling, sandy-haired baby boy into them.  He holds him tight, right against his heart, and breathes deeply. There is no shame in the tear that falls across his cheek.

Of all the children the pack had found in the demon’s lair - well cared for by thralls and awaiting the day of sacrifice - only this one, tiny little boy had not been returned to his family.  They have no idea who he is, where he’s from, or who his parents are. All they know is he is probably somewhere between six and eight months old, and he is most definitely a Shadowhunter.

Well, that’s all the Clave knows, anyway.

Magnus and Alec know how he has the barest hint of a snore when he is in the stages of sleep he can’t be woken up from.  They know what his determined face looks like when he is trying to crawl, what his disappointed one looks like when he can’t quite get to what he wants.  They know he loves to sleep over Alec’s heart with a fist full of chest hair, that Magnus’ cat eyes will instantly calm him when he’s being fussy and his magical dancing lights lull him to sleep so incredibly fast.

They also know, in their carefully balanced on edge hearts, that this will not last.  His family will be found. He will go home.

They will have to move on.

It had been Alec’s idea.  

Magnus had watched, helpless but awestruck as his husband had paced around the ops center with the tiny infant while others argued around them.  No one knew what to do with him but Alec hadn’t been listening the least little bit. Truth be told, Magnus hadn’t really been either, too focused on the way Alec hadn’t taken his eyes off the infant, the way he spoke in quiet whispers to him, and swayed ever so gently as he walked.  Magnus’ heart had done all sorts of new somersaults in his chest.

And here he had thought he was done learning new things about love from Alexander Lightwood-Bane.

When the arguing had reached a fever pitch Alec’s mesmerization had been broken and he looked up, directly at Magnus, with a question in his eyes.  Wordlessly, Magnus had simply nodded back, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips at how elated that simple act had made the younger man.

“We’ll take care of him”  Silence descended through the small crowd and every head snapped to him when Alec had spoken in a tone that brokered no room for argument.  Not that anyone in there would have. One doesn’t simply argue with the Inquisitor.

Well, except for Izzy.

But she had just smiled and stretched up to kiss his forehead.  “I’ll have someone send some things to your guest room. Shouldn’t be more than a couple of days.”

A couple of days had become a week had become two.

And now Magnus stands with a baby, bright, alert, and cooing in his arms, his husband pressed against his back making faces over his shoulder and his heart ready to shatter any moment from the pain of inevitability.

Why oh WHY couldn’t the two of them do anything slowly?

“You can’t keep calling him Peanut.”  Vira, the old and ferocious werewolf who had been in charge of watching the little ones spares them a rare smile.

“Trust me,” Alec says, smile and an overabundance of fondness clear in his voice.  “Even if we knew the little guy's name, once Magnus picks something to call you, that’s it.”

Magnus couldn’t argue if he’d wanted to.

With extreme reluctance, he allows Alec to take the sandy-haired bundle of rolls and they head back downstairs where everyone else is having an impromptu celebration of their victory.  They aren’t the only ones who are tired, but sometimes the balm of laughter is the first step to real rest. Besides, Peanut is far too alert, his bright green eyes focusing on everything that moves, however briefly.

When they step out of the elevator into the crowded room a deafening roar of applause and shouts is being directed to where Isabelle stands at the top of the small set of stairs, addressing the crowd.  Both men move to put a hand over the baby’s ears, but Alec gets there first, cradling his head just so that he’s pressed against his chest.

Whatever speech of congratulations she had given seems to have put even the wounded in high spirits.  Chatter and laughter fill the halls of the Institute for the first time in months, the bright undeniable giggle of children cutting through it all soothing everyone’s soul.  Magnus feels his chest swell with a kind of magic he doesn’t often find these days.

This is peace.

His smile is so wide his face nearly aches with it by the time they reach Izzy, Simon, and Clary who have gathered just to the side of where Isabelle had given her speech.  

Clary spots them first, pushing both her best friend and her Parabatai out of the way to get to Alec’s side.  Her disappointment from earlier is buried beneath a blinding smile and excited voice as she reaches out to tickle Peanut, never making an attempt to remove him from Alec’s arms.

After only two days with them, if Alec or Magnus were around, the infant had a tendency to flip his lid if anyone else tried to hold him.

They are in WAY over their heads.

“Hello there, handsome!”  Delighted sounds bubble up from the baby and Magnus has to press his hand to his chest, willing his heart to stop beating so loudly.

Isabelle steps into their space long enough to kiss a sandy mess of hair then makes sure to leave breathing room.  “I hear you two were instrumental in tonight’s victory.” She smiles and gives her brother a wink. “Good to see having a desk job doesn’t mean you forgot how to fight.  You haven’t lost your touch, Inquisitor.”

Magnus has to let out a long, dry laugh at that.  They may not live in the same place for her to see it first hand anymore but there is no _way_ she doesn’t know the man still trains hard every. Single. Day.

“Can’t have Clary hogging all the glory.”  Alec retorts just as easily with a smirk and a wink, followed by a yelp when said redhead pokes him in the chest.

“Sorry.  Fingers slipped.”  She lies before pulling back, her attempt at looking innocent overwhelmed by the glassy mischief in her eyes.

“I bet you guys are gonna have some epic bedtime stories,”  Simon interjects while making absolutely ridiculous, overly expressive faces at the baby.

Magnus places a hand on Alec’s shoulder.  “No monster tales for a while, I’m afraid.  I don’t think I could stomach them.” Possibly none ever, if they find his parents soon.  Though his smile slips at the thought, no one seems to notice.

“I bet he’d like one about rescuing princesses!”  Clary offers.

“Or better yet,” Isabelle smirks, “Self-rescuing princesses.”

Though their conversations on fairy tales and bedtime stories continue on, growing and shifting as others come and go, Magnus finds himself a few steps back, watching, chest fit to burst with love.  When Max shows up he plays peek-a-boo with Peanut. Jace, who hasn’t actually ever touched the child out of what Magnus reads as a purely misplaced fear he might break the precious thing, joins them a few minutes later.  After a moment, Magnus realizes the blonde shadowhunter has never taken his eyes off Clary. Normally this wouldn’t be anything of note except for the pure, unbridled awe in the man’s gaze at every single thing she does with Peanut.  Catarina pops over and delights everyone by drawing brightly colored shapes in the air and watching the little one’s joy as he reaches out and plays with them. (Apparently, her magic has been just as affected as his is by their current environment.)  And the whole time, Alec holds the baby close, kissing his head, laughter loud and beautiful when he does something adorable and, occasionally, stealing a quick glance back at Magnus. The same tumultuous mix of emotions fill them both, but for now, they embrace the love.  

The little cluster of his family waxes and wanes as the time moves forward, people drifting in and out, but never far, and always gravitating back.

He’s fighting the moisture in his eyes when a tender hand comes to rest on his shoulder from behind.  “So when am I going to be getting grandchildren?”

Magnus spins in place on one foot, mouth agape.  He is not surprised to see Maryse. Far from it. She had been exiled from Idris, but the Institute isn’t IN Idris and no one was going to be fixing THAT gaping loophole anytime soon.  “I would think you should be asking your son that question.” He points out with a smile, gesturing back over his shoulder.

She doesn’t break eye contact.  “I am.” She says rather pointedly, but then she softens.  “Besides, anytime I bring it up Alec gets this dopey eyed grin on his face and can’t give me a straight answer.”  

“You know, given your eldest children’s choices in partners, you may need to wait and hope Max grows up to find a nice werewolf or seely to just,” he gestures with both hands in a vaguely circular shape. “Complete the whole downworld collection.  At least he’d have a chance to give you one.”

“Magnus.  I know better than most you don’t need to birth a child to consider them family.”

Magnus swallows and turns, not away from her but rather wraps his arms around her shoulders so they can stand side by side and watch those they love.

Her voice goes quiet, and understanding.  “Have you two thought about what happens if you don’t find his parents?”  Though she squeezes him around the middle, it’s the vice on his heart that has him shaking his head.  

“We try really hard not to.”

Mesmerized, Magnus watches Alec hold up the small, chubby baby boy and pepper his face in kisses until the infant cracks a massive yawn, his mouth hanging open for a long time before falling shut with a few smacks of his tiny lips.  Alec’s own mouth is trembling, his eyes just as wet as Magnus’ as he nuzzles the tiny nose before gently bringing him back down to rest, cradled, safe in his arms.

Magnus wonders how his heart could be so full of love and so broken all at once.

“Looks like someone is ready for bed.”  Maryse slips out of his grip but not before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

He bids her farewell then moves to Alec’s side, neither man saying anything when he goes to relieve his husband of the slowly fading baby, sharing an understanding glace.  They make their excuses and say their goodnights, finally heading up to the guest room they’ve called home for the last month.

By the time they make it to the room the baby is starting to fuss, most likely from a combination of hunger and sleepiness.  Before Magnus has to ask for it Alec has a bottle prepped and in his hands. For a moment they stand in the silence of the moonlit room, Alec with his hands on Magnus’ arms and a baby eating with only a hint of a whine between them.  

Alec leans in to press a kiss to Magnus’ forehead, lingering for a long while before going to shower.  On his way, he stops to turn on the little stereo Magnus had summoned in during Peanut’s second night with them.  Soft tones of piano music with ocean waves in the background fill the room and the little noises Peanut had been making around the bottle in his mouth all but disappear. It had only been the night before they had discovered just how much he likes this particular album.  Maybe it was the white noise of the crash of waves overtaking the music every now and then, but he had slept longer than ever.

And now is just more proof.

He’s only halfway through the bottle when Alec returns, still half damp with sweatpants the only thing on his body.  They trade off carefully, not wanting to rouse the half sleeping infant or take his bottle away. Nothing interrupts the sleep process faster than making him quit eating.

Normally Magnus’ showers take ages, especially after a night like tonight.  But all he wants is to feel properly clean and refreshed in the way magic can’t quite touch then get right back to his husband.

When he does return, he finds him putting the portable screen/room divider around the bassinet in the corner.  It helps keep the early morning sun from rousing the little one too early.

Though, Magnus notes, it has been set a little differently tonight as if for a little more… privacy.

A gasp of surprise escapes his lips when Alec meets him in the middle of the room, yanking him forward for a deep and needy kiss.  He melts into it, not just in the way their lips move together, gliding with familiar ease, tongues slipping against one another, hungry.  He succumbs to the way he holds him, how the grip on his arm is tight and possessive, the hand cradling his head keeps him close but his touch there is gentle, fingers carding through his hair and thumb running a soft circle in the tender spot just below his ear.  Their bodies are flush, bare chests pressed against one another as close as they can manage. Every inch they are connected ignites the want he carries for Alec deep in his bones, each touch, each swipe of his tongue fanning the flames.

“What are you doing?”  Magnus asks, breathless between hungry kisses, making zero attempts to actually stop him.

“Celebrating.”  Alec’s voice is already slipping lower, his mouth trailing along Magnus’ jaw and to his neck.

“But, ah -”  He hisses in a breath and can’t stop the way his hips roll against Alec’s, both of them momentarily shaken off course by their obvious need.  “What about Peanut.”

Magnus can feel Alec’s smile against his neck.  “He was already snoring when I put him down. But if you’re worried, put up a sound barrier around him.”  He pulls back, eyes flickering across Magnus’ face, pupils blown wide, lips swollen and parted. Magnus knows he looks just as debauched.  “Or,” he smirks with a devilish look in his eyes and brings his thumb up to Magnus’ lips, brushing the bottom one with a tease of a touch, his own mouth so close his hand is the only thing between them.

Magnus can’t breathe.

“I could put something in that pretty mouth of yours to keep you quiet.”

Alec can be quiet.  He had learned it from spending his entire life and puberty with very little privacy.  Magnus? Not so much. Not only had he entirely given up _caring_ about who heard him only a couple of centuries into his long life, but that coupled with the fact that Alec can cause him to lose control just by dropping his voice an octave and all hope is lost.

When Magnus darts his tongue out then pulls the digit between his lips with exacting purpose all hope of stopping what Alec had started is lost as well.

In a tangle of lips and limbs and no small amount of quiet gasps of pleasure, they make it to the bed where Magnus finds himself pinned down, with strong arms bracketing his body and a mouth exploring every inch of exposed, overheated flesh.

“I’ve created a monster.”  It’s not a complaint, far from it.  Truth be told he had been working on unlocking this side of Alec bit by teasing bit since they _met_.  It hadn’t been difficult, but he’s far from through.

“ _Magnus_ ,”  there’s a pleading tone breaking through his control.  “We barely go more than two days.” Which is painfully true.  Since their wedding, their longest dry spell till now was six days and that’s only because they had been in different realms. It’s been over two weeks now.  “And you’re the one who keeps stopping me.”

With a smirk Magnus lets his glamors fall and arches, lithe and catlike against his body, reveling in the groan that drags from his husband.  “Maybe you should punish me.”

Though Alec stills, his gaze becomes darker, and he bites his bottom lip before slowly letting it roll from his teeth.  When he moves again it's just his hands, gliding up the lines of Magnus’ body with deliberate intention until he guides his arms up and over his head, pinning his wrists to the pillows.

“Change of plans.”

Magnus raises an eyebrow.

“Put the sound barrier around us.”  He rocks his hips down hard, making Magnus drop his head back, eyes screwed shut tight and lips caught between his teeth to keep from crying out in a shock of pleasure before he can do as he’s told.  “I want to hear you scream.”

 

* * *

 

  


When morning encroaches on their little sanctuary Magnus is tempted to throw up the night spell he usually reserves for when he has vampires over as long term house guests.  He is too warm. Too happy. Far too comfortable and relaxed to willingly face the reality of another day. He reaches for Alec without opening his eyes but instead of finding a hard, warm chest to curl up against his hand hits a thigh.

“Look who’s finally waking up.  I told you Lazy Bones would take a while to join us.” Alec’s voice is light and not directed at him.  Magnus already knows what he will find when he opens his eyes. Sure enough, Alec is propped up against the headboard, still shirtless but with his sweats already on, his legs drawn up with Peanut in his lap.  “Say good morning Lazy Bones!” When the baby giggles as Alec guides his hand to wave Magnus just moans through a broad smile and buries his face into his pillow.

“That’s not fair.”  He mumbles before moving, not mentioning WHY.  They both know it is one hundred percent Alec’s fault he had slept so long, so soundly.  There’s no need to voice it.

Once he’s sitting up as well and manages to get the sleep out of his unfocused eyes he really takes in the sight before him and is caught breathless.  It is not a rare occasion for Alec to have that effect on him and truly he hopes it never stops. The rays of brightly colored morning sunlight pour over the bed and catch Alec’s eyes and his wide, brilliant smile that make him look like the angel he is.  

“You want to see what we’ve been working on this morning?” When he turns to look at Magnus one side of his mouth hitches up just a touch higher and all Magnus can do is swallow the lump in his throat and nod.

Alec reaches for the nightstand and grabs a half-empty bottle then holds it out for the baby.  “You still hungry big guy?” Pudgy little arms reach out, almost knocking it away at first but managing to eventually grasp it and bring it up to his mouth entirely on his own.  “See! I told you he would get it soon. Just took showing him his fingers would work better than trying to hold it with his fists!” Though his words are full of pride, Mangus’ heart clenches at how shaken they are, and the moisture suddenly clouding over his beautiful hazel eyes.

“Alexander.”  Magnus breathes out his name and shifts closer, wrapping an arm around his husband and holding on for dear life.

“I’m the one who said no attachments.”  Alec reminds him even as he rubs a gentle knuckle against the baby’s round cheek.  “But I…” his smile has disappeared.

“Hey, no.”

“I think I wanted this too much.  With you. For us.” He takes a deep, shaken breath and then laughs, though there is no humor in it.  “I was even the one who tried bringing up names.”

“That was supposed to be a hypothetical situation for future use.”  He reminds him with a squeeze to his shoulders and a kiss to his cheek.  It is a blatant lie now just like it had been a lie the night before. But it’s one they’re both well aware they’re telling themselves.

“I should never have done this.”  His voice is barely above a whisper.  “Never have asked you to agree. It’s too much.  We’ll find his family and, Magnus, I can’t…” The damn breaks and tears streak down his cheeks.  Magnus’ own, at seeing him like this, so frightened, and at the whole situation, aren’t far behind.

“Hey.  Alexander, darling.  Look at me.” With a gentle touch of his cheek, he guides him to do so.  “We may find his family and it is going to hurt both of us for a while. But that doesn’t mean we can let him forget what it feels like to be safe, and warm.”  Magnus moves from cradling Alec’s face to the baby’s and they both look down at him. “And loved.” He adds. “And you have proven to be so amazing at all of it.”

Alec slumps, just a touch, and they rest their heads against one another, both men watching the little one finish off the bottle while staring back up at them with bright, happy eyes.

Their quiet moment is intruded upon by a knock at the door.

Alec sniffs and wipes the rest of his own tears away.  “Who is it?”

“Izzy.”

Magnus flicks his wrist and releases the rune proof lock on their door but otherwise, they don’t move.

When Isabelle steps in she is already dressed and done up for the day but her heavily practiced look of blank authority vanishes at the sight she is greeted with.  It is replaced by a broad smile and a touch of longing in her eyes.

“I can honestly say I’ve never been more sorry to interrupt.  But the Consul will be here in an hour.”

That is probably the only thing short of another demon attack that could possibly have gotten Alec to take his attention off the baby.  Consul Dieudonné is the only being who still outranks him and Alec’s shoulders are instantly drawn back. “Did he say why he’s coming?” He asks, voice mostly clear of any emotion.

Magnus wordlessly takes the baby from his arms and isn’t surprised when he’s out of bed two seconds later.  

“Not explicitly, no.  But I wouldn’t be surprised if it is to give a flowery speech and hand out some accommodations.  What everyone did last night, it was huge. And we have plenty of injured but no losses. The last two months will go into our history books.”

“Yeah.”  Alec is already digging in the wardrobe for one of his suits.  “And no doubt he’ll want something he says to be some memorable bi-line about the whole damn thing.”  There’s a deep bitterness in his tone, expressing a sentiment he knows all too well. Malachi hadn’t wanted the help of the downworlders, had even threatened Alec’s position because of it.  But, as Alec is want to do when he knows he is right, he had gone around his back and done it anyway. Everyone who fought knows the only reason everyone made it through to the other side is because they had worked together.

And Alec had made it happen.

The Consul won’t be able to touch him for years, no matter how much he hates him.

“True.”  Isabelle agrees.  “Your assistant is already getting things ready, but I told him you’d be down in ten minutes.”  She nods and turns to leave.

Alec looks back over his shoulder at Magnus and his gaze softens once more.  “Izzy,” She pauses with her hand on the door. “Tell him to give me fifteen.”

Her smile is understanding and she nods before leaving them be.

The moment the door is closed again Alec dresses as fast as possible, disappearing to the bathroom for a couple of minutes then comes back to the bed to sit at Magnus’ side.  He kisses him with a long, slow press of lips. “I’m sorry.” He says in the infinitesimal space between them. “I have to go make sure we’re ready for him.”

“It’s okay, Alexander.  Go get ready for your boss.  We’ll join you in a little while.”   

Alec nods then turns his attention to the baby.  “And you! You little stinker,” He leans down and peppers his chubby face in a million butterfly kisses that is met with a squeal of giggles.  “You be good for - for Magnus.” His voice catches and Magnus’ heart flips. But neither says anything about the hiccup.

They share one last, lingering kiss before Alec finally pushes up off the bed.

“We’ll see you soon,”  Magnus assures him before he can leave completely.  

“I love you.”  Alec reminds him one last time before disappearing through the door.

“That was meant for you, too, you know.”  Magic curls around his fingers as he brings several balls of light to life and he smiles when Peanut immediately begins reaching for them.  They dance around his tiny hands, brightening and changing colors every time he manages to grab one. “He loves you so much. We both do, even though we weren’t supposed to.”  He sighs and allows himself this moment, but only briefly. “When we find your family you’ll go back to them and I know they couldn’t possibly love you with anything less than everything they have.  They miss you so much.”

More than he and Alec will, he knows.  They will be sad, and they will move on.  But his parents must be grieving.

Eventually, he has to actually get out of bed no matter how much he doesn’t want to.  He takes his time, setting up a wide ring of pillows around the bed with Peanut in the center and a couple of the toys they had acquired to keep him occupied.  While he couldn’t crawl just yet he is a master at rolling to wherever he wants to be so even with the barrier Magnus makes sure to keep his eyes on him as much as possible.  As he dresses, he talks to the baby, about anything and everything that springs to mind. Once he is ready, hair and makeup perfectly in place, he gets Peanut changed as well with a fresh diaper and a dapper little outfit with soft gold pants, an adorable grey vest, and raccoons on the onesie beneath it all.

It is horrifyingly domestic as many things have been the last two weeks - and Magnus is more than a little terrified of how much he loves it.

He has been thrown off balance, his center of gravity shifted by such a tiny little thing in their lives.  Knowing Alec wanted to have a family with him was one thing. Seeing what that would look like, what it would feel like deep in his soul?  That is an entirely different beast.

Doing his best not to dwell anymore than he already is, Magnus gathers the baby up in his arms and heads downstairs.

First, he makes a pit stop in the mess to grab something to eat.  There aren’t quite as many people here as there had been the previous night. Most of the downworlders had left as the celebrations wound down.  Just those in the infirmary and the handful that work here remain. Apparently, not a single shadowhunter had returned to their home though, if the mass of Nephilim in every corner is anything to go by.  Ordinarily, he wouldn't care about the crowd. He works with plenty of people who are working on their prejudices but haven’t quite gotten there yet. Not to mention those who barely hide their disdain. But after everything they’ve all just been through, the occasional side eye thrown his way is just, well, it’s tiring.  

By the time he makes it out to ops, Malachi Dieudonné is already waxing poetic about the heroism and bravery of his fellow shadowhunters.

And _only_ his fellow shadowhunters.  

He isn’t surprised, not in the slightest.  It's a very deliberate speech, one he surely worked hard on to sound as praising and quotable as possible.  Most people won’t even think twice about it. Hell, he doubts even Alec notices the subtle things that _aren’t_ there.  It’s easy to tell when someone insults with words.  It’s a much more difficult task to realize what their silence means.

Standing at his side is Alec who, despite having dressed in such a hurry, looks perfect as always.  In his usual black, with his hands clasped behind his back and shoulders pulled taught he cuts an impressive figure.  

When the ridiculously self-satisfying speech is over the crowd reacts as expected, applauding and cheering wildly.  Despite Magnus’ misgivings on what was left out, he can’t deny that everyone in there deserves the recognition. It’s been a hard few months.

He catches Alec’s gaze and starts to pick his way through the mass of people.

Before Magnus can make it to him though, Alec has disappeared.  Which is impressive. It’s hard to lose such a tall man in the crowd.  

“Magnus.”  He turns at the sound of Malachi calling his name, catching sight of Alec speaking with Isabelle and Underhill back down the steps over his shoulder.  Not wanting to be rude, he gives him a small smile and even makes Peanut wave at him. “It’s good to see you.” His own grin is thin, and polite - nothing more.

“You as well, Consul. And may I just say that was a truly beautifully crafted speech.”

Though his eyes narrow ever so slightly, his smile doesn’t waver.  “You’re too kind.”

He has a right to be suspicious of course.  Magnus has never been one to let such a slight simply be.  “Probably.” He agrees. “But I did particularly enjoy the part where you entirely ignored the contributions of those that fought who are not covered in Runes.”

“I am a shadowhunter.” He says with the barest hint of ice in his voice.  “I was congratulating my fellow shadowhunters. It is as simple as that.”

Magnus keeps his own voice low and casual.  He and Malachi are well practiced in the art of arguing in public as if they’re having a quick and casual chat.  “You know as well as I that in our positions words are never so simple,” He adjusts the restless baby in his arms and summons a teething ring to hand him before one of his necklaces gets used instead.  “And in speeches like that, always deliberate.”

“Spin it however you want.  I said nothing out of line.”

“Ah! But sometimes it is what we don’t say that speaks loud and clear.”

For a moment he thinks Malachi has said his peace and will leave without further response.  But when Peanut babbles incoherently around the teething ring in his mouth the Consul’s gaze zeroes in on him.  A smile returns to his lips, but it is more malicious than anything else.

“Such an adorable little thing.”  He coos while rumpling his hair. “I was so happy to hear they found his family.”

A lead weight plummets against his chest and through his stomach.  Magnus, for a heartbeat, forgets how to breathe.

“What?”

The storm of emotions going through his heart and head must play out as plain as day on his features.

“I fail to see why this upsets you.”  He takes a step to the side as if to leave but pauses, and leans in close so only Magnus could possibly hear.  “It isn’t like we would allow someone like you to raise one of our own.”

Decisions are often split-second things.  And when they’re made in a blurry fog of shock and anger it is difficult to tell if they are good or bad ones.

Turning on his heel Magnus reaches out and grips the Consul by his elbow just hard enough to force him to be face to face again.

“Excuse me?”  He is aware they are slowly gaining an audience but he doesn’t care in the slightest.

A flash of anger is clear in Malachi’s eyes as he jerks his arm free of the grip.  “You may have won over the hearts of the people with your savior of Alicante act.”  He sneers, voice still low, sharp and dangerous. “But that doesn’t change what’s in your blood.”  

“All our blood does is gives us our powers and sets us apart.”  He doesn’t bother keeping his voice down any longer. Which seems to anger him more than anything else had so far.  “But it is our hearts that make us good or evil.”

Malachi steps closer.  “Jonathan and Clary’s connection to him was proof enough that you are wrong, Mr. Bane.”

He doesn’t correct him on his name, but the slight does add fuel to the flames of his anger.  “Jonathan’s mother attempted to kill him as a child and he was raised by an evil, sadistic man who happened to be one of you.  Oh wait, they both were!”

Malachi doesn’t respond with words but his eyes narrow into a mask of cold fury that he would dare to make such a scene.  “People like me,” Magnus goes on, not even caring how much his voice carries at this point, “Are the reason we are even able to celebrate right now.”

“You would -”

“What is going on here?” Alec is in full Inquisitor mode, taking the stairs with a massive presence that can’t be ignored, his voice deep and commanding.

“Your warlock,” Malachi begins with a quiet sneer.

“My HUSBAND,” he corrects, coming to stand at rest between the Consul and Magnus with his hands clasped behind his back and shoulders pulled tight. “Is correct. We would not be standing here celebrating right now without the aid of our friends and allies.”

“You know they were only here for their fellow downworlders.”

“Every single one of them were at our side long before their own children were involved.” No thanks to him.  Not to mention the vampires don’t HAVE children, Magnus thinks. Alec, ever the diplomat, doesn’t point any of that out though. “Now I don’t know what started this argument, but Isabelle has informed me we have a family to reunite. So if you’ll excuse us, Consul.” Alec gives him a curt, perfunctory nod of his head in respect to his station.  Then turns and shocks Magnus by sliding an arm around Magnus’ shoulders and pressing a tender kiss to his temple. He taps the miraculously still silent baby in Magnus’ arms on the nose. “Let’s go figure out how to get him home.”

It takes Magnus a second to respond, frozen in place at the very public display of affection from his normally reserved in front of anyone but his closest family husband. But when he moves, his aching heart feels a little better for it.

He desperately clings to that warmth for he knows in mere minutes everything will be shattered and cold once more.  

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out at my [tumblr](https://toriceratops.tumblr.com/)  
> It's an eclectic mess of stuff but mostly fun


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